To Escape a Joker
by MAAS
Summary: Walking alone at night is dangerous. Walking alone at night in Gotham is suicide. Joker's found a new toy to play with and there's no Batman around to save her.  No named female character to fit yourself in.


**This is my first Justice League themed story revolving around the Joker. He is my favorite villain for many reasons and I thought I'd write a short fic in tribute to him. I know he's a little OOC in this, but I felt this should be more of a soft psychological (love?) story. Okay, so there really is no romance in this story since I feel the Joker shouldn't be in love, but more flattered. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Please R&R.**

_All rights belong to DC and Warner Bros._

**To Escape a Joker**

It was a series of careless mistakes. I shouldn't have been walking home so late at night, especially from the library halfway across town. I only lived in Gotham for God's sake! I shouldn't have been looking so carelessly at the ground, contemplating a topic for my thesis with a hard look upon my face. I should however, have paid more attention to the figure walking right behind me. I didn't even notice he was there until I stopped at the empty crosswalk and heard that maniacal laugh as he whispered in my ear, "Why so serious?"

Now, I sit tied tightly to a chair, having awoken from whatever caused me to blackout, but feigning unconsciousness for fear of him. Under fluttering eyes, I searched the dark room for any sign of him. My blurred vision finally noticed him hunched over a table, toying away with some unknown object. He turned slightly, a drill in hand and let it rev for just a second. Unintentionally, I inhaled sharply; almost inaudibly...almost. With the yellowest grin I'd ever seen in my short nineteen years of life, he spoke in a sing-song voice, "Someone's faking."

Whether it was fear that caused my reaction, or the embarrassment of being caught, my eyes shot open only to meet his terrifying gaze. He let the drill rev again. I could only sit there in shock, my eyes staring blankly at the drill. I had to find a way out of this; some means of escape. Even with the onslaught of terror radiating from this twisted man, whom Gotham knew as the Joker, my brain seemed to function perfectly within my frail body. If I might die here, in this dark, hellish place, I might as well try anything.

"Well, well, well. I do believe, my dear, that we are going to have a FANTASTIC night, aren't we?" His voice was borderline demonic. I only had once chance, and so I forced my body to open my mouth and let my brain do the talking, it was, after all, the only thing functioning in my body. "Of course we are, sir." He might have been facing away, but I saw how his body tensed after I spoke. "What was that?" A legitimate question; one asked without harsh or malice tones laced in. I continued, "I was only debating with a classmate earlier whether villains were ingenious in their work. While some are mediocre, the more disturbed, including yourself, in my opinion, are beyond intelligent. My theory is that your sick, psychotic mind is only the way it is because of ingenuity that lingers there. A kind of ingenuity that not even the worlds greatest psychiatrists and psychologists can comprehend. Look at what you've created: a fear for everyone living in Gotham...no the United States. Who doesn't fear you? What you can do to a person's psychological being...it's genius...perfection."

I finished with a dreamy guise plastered on my face. I, myself, was impressed with my impromptu plead for mercy. It seemed as the Joker was, too. He leaned in close to my face, inching closer every second, confused and seemingly lost. Finally, he looked me dead in the eye, "Do you really think so?" The closeness was much too much for me, but I forced a shallow, "Yes," out. Moving quickly, he rushed back to the work bench and placed the drill down. I silently sighed in relief, the need to cry building in my gut. Slouched over the bench again, he shouted loudly, "HARLEY! She's free to go."

A blindfold was placed over my eyes, and a pouty Harley Quinn shrilled, "But Mista J...". She was cut off with a roaring, "SHUT UP!", and I felt the ropes loosen on my wrists and ankles. Pushing me rougher than necessary, she led my past what I assumed was a door. The feeling of relief washed over me, and suddenly, I became quite excited as my endeavor had succeeded and I would live another day. As I left, I could hear the Joker mumble to himself, "Perfection."

**I really don't know if I should continue with the story. I'm awful about keeping up with them, but please tell me what y'all think.**


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